An attempt to reconnect the closeness we once had as children
Or the moments we once shared.
Yet we didn't have anything in common;
Your world had receded to an even smaller circle and I had lost
the pure social skills I used to possess,
That used to allow me to converse easily with anyone.
Silence seeped in,
And I let it. What for force conversation when you discuss the price of vegetables, right?
I was content to spend a few hours with you,
Even if it simply meant companionship in its shallow literal sense.
'So... that's it for today then. Do you want to go back?'
'No, I wanna stay for a little more.'
Somehow,
The words that followed turned into a complete opening up,
One that revealed you in your entirety,
One that truly saddened me,
One that I wanted to help with but couldn't.
Since I promised privacy but am still troubled by this,
This level of detail will do-
Somehow,
I learnt the most vulnerable parts of you in monologues that soon ensued,
And I listened,
Unsure of what to do.
Because here was something that slapped me across the face with the recognition that I should have been there for you from a long time ago,
That I shouldn't have let so many factors come into play to cause me to not be there,
And that the situation you are in is much worse than I'd anticipated.
Had I chosen to ignore the hints of your hurt that was so glaring?
Had I, like so many other people,
Chosen convenience over truth,
And in doing so, chosen to be part of why your world has warped itself into the way it is now?
I assure you,
There is no pity.
There is no pedestal, and there is nothing greater about me when it comes to you.
But I truly haven't noticed..
I was a kid and still am,
And I wasn't able to tell the problems of your life because
I thought that you were in a good place-
I thought that you were, like me, in a good place.
The truth tho
Is that we live in extremely different contexts of a world,
And I could have been so much help,
Always made half hearted efforts at trying to be a friend to you,
And yet hadn't been because-
Some of us are too busy with our lives to bother with yours.
We just can't see suffering until it's told to our faces, can we.
And we'll never find out the stories behind each teary-filled midnight if we're never let in to be shown those tears,
And we're never opened up to unless we are sensitive enough and willing to help-
That which I was not.
It was verbal diarrhoea from you,
And it was clear that you weren't used to conversations because you didn't seem well adjusted to talking or, well, listening. There were loads of interruptions and a very static topic, a general discomfort at any pockets of silence, and a difficulty at expression.
That was when it hit me that I should have gone over more times than I did,
To just speak with you and know what's going on.
It should've been so much more..
But it's difficult to want to provide comfort through time when you yourself don't enjoy the experience- when it feels like stupendous effort
And you aren't actually aware of the importance of it all.
My writing's a mess because it's a lot to take in,
And I want to help but it's insufficient and not enough,
And there's just so much: so much, that all I could do was emphasise that it isn't your fault and never will be, that it'll only worsen from here, that you should therefore take steps to make little changes for improvement, that I'll be here.
You said that having someone to talk to is enough,
But is it forceful for me to tell you that something needs to be done because this is too harmful a situation for you?
Because you're too important for me to be a mere listener and not to try giving you advice;
Even if self-control had taken over, lots of thoughts were held in,
And I'd told you to just take a ten minute stroll each day, for a start.
If I overdid it it'd have been bad,
But if I let it be who knows how it'll progress from there.
This is highly unsettling, but I suppose that with my meagre intentions,
We shall settle with this for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment